


Afternoon Snack

by Bofur1



Series: Child's Play [9]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Bad Cooking, Brotherly Bonding, Fluff and Mush, Humorous Ending, Kid Fic, Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-15 20:51:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/853915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Bofur1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dori's at the market, leaving Ori to Nori's care. When Ori gets hungry, he begs Nori to cook him a treat that Dori makes him. It turns out a bit differently than they expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Afternoon Snack

**Author's Note:**

  * For [in_a_blog_in_the_ground](https://archiveofourown.org/users/in_a_blog_in_the_ground/gifts).



> My prompt from in_a_blog_in_the_ground: "Something nice/cute/funny for Ori. Had sad feels about him randomly the other day, and I need to be cheered up about him! :D Please, please?" I hope this does the trick for you, friend! :)

So far, Ori decided, he’d been having a rather good day. Dori was off at the market for the afternoon, and last he’d seen his other brother Nori had been downstairs drinking from a tankard. Nori had read to Ori from his books for a long while, and then Ori had run upstairs, inspired to begin a new drawing.

However, now Ori was growing rather hungry. He rubbed his stomach gingerly and it hummed eagerly in response. Having set his mind to it, Ori set his sketchbook aside and skipped back down the steps and over to Nori, who was curled up on the couch, fast asleep.

Ori tapped his brother’s knee. “Nori, wake up!”

Nori’s eyes opened a bit and he shifted, groggily running a hand through his sleep-tousled hair. “...Mm?”

“I’m hungry.”

Nori unwound his limbs and sat up, cracking his neck and shoulders. “Are you now? Well, let’s cook somethin’, then.” Loosely tying his hair back in a braid, Nori continued, “What’re you in the mood for?”

“Those potato cakes that Dori does on my birthday!” Ori announced promptly.

Nori’s eyebrows rose. “I’m not sure how to make those. I mean, he taught me once, but I’m a bit of a rusty blade.”

“Oh, _please_? I’m sure we can do it,” Ori pleaded, adding a bit of a whine to his voice and giving Nori his largest eyes.

Nori grinned. “Alright. But when Dori comes back and sees that the house has exploded, it’s your fault.”

The brothers were soon in the kitchen, Ori running around flinging open cupboards and hunting down foodstuff while Nori pored over Dori’s cookbook and shouted out ingredients required.

Soon they were mixing mashed potatoes, egg, and onion in a bowl. “Give me the flour, will you, Ori?” Nori asked distractedly.

Ori nodded, heaving the sack onto the counter with such force that the top exploded, sending the fluffy white dust everywhere. Ori gave a gasp of astonishment; as the flour settled it seemed as though a snowfall had begun right there in the kitchen. When Ori looked at his brother to see his reaction, he burst out laughing.

“Nori! You look like Mister Balin!” Ori exclaimed gleefully. With greatest restraint, Nori set the bowl of ingredients on the counter and wiped the powder out of his eyes, managing something between a grin and a grimace.

“Well. Now that there’s _more_ than enough flour in the bowl, let’s move on. We need cheese,” Nori said in an astonishingly calm voice.

“Okay,” Ori agreed, stifling a giggle. Nori really did look like Mister Balin. The flour had bathed his brother’s auburn hair a frothy white and it accented the thin wrinkles beneath Nori’s eyes, making him look older. Ori was still trying not to laugh as he handed the cheese to Nori.

After adding salt and pepper into the mix, Nori started a fire and heated olive oil and butter in a pan. Then he scooped some of the mixture into the pan and shaped it into patties. Ori wrinkled his nose as he looked at them.

“Nori, they’re lopsided.”

Nori gave an exasperated sigh. “I told you, kid; I’m a rusty blade at this. Now I’m going to go dunk my head in a bucket out back, cos this flour’s making my face stiff. You watch these and get me when you think they need to be flipped, alright? Don’t do it without my help, you hear?”

Ori nodded obediently and sat down on a stool before the fire as Nori departed. Dutifully Ori watched the cakes until he suddenly realized that they hadn’t cleaned up the kitchen. Dori was going to be home soon and he would be very displeased to come home to a dirty kitchen. Ori leapt up and ran to the kitchen, giving a gasp of horror. He hadn’t realized just how messy their project had been.

Flour dusted every flat space available, along with black speckles of pepper; the cheese lay on the counter, slowly changing from properly cold to lukewarm; splats of butter were stuck in odd places from Nori’s careless mixing; and the bottle of olive oil had somehow been tipped and was now leaking its contents onto the floor.

“Oh,” Ori groaned as he surveyed the mess. “Not good. Not good at all!” Furiously he began to poke through the clutter, trying to restore at least relative order, when suddenly he heard the back door open and Nori’s voice.

“...Been a while, Ori. You sure they don’t need to be flipped—? _Great Lord Mahal!_ ”

Ori then noticed the strange smell and a billow of smoke from the other room. Almost afraid to look, Ori peered in, and screamed. The cakes were hissing like serpents, and the smoggy cloud was making it horribly difficult to see. The pan rattled as a small explosion burst from the hearth, causing yelps from both brothers.  Nori was desperately fanning the pan and at last, with no better idea, he fled outdoors to grab the bucket he’d used to wash. Floury water still sloshed inside of it and with a great heave Nori splashed it over the smoldering pan.

There was a long moment of tense breathlessness and then Nori threw the bucket onto the floor in disgust. “What did I say?” he snarled to no one in particular. “Rusty, that’s what I said. Ha! The understatement of the day!”

Ori crept over to the pan and peeked hesitantly at what would have been his afternoon snack. After a moment’s thought he said thoughtfully, “I...I think after they cool a bit and dry, they’ll be alright. If we add a bit of salt to them we can probably still eat them.”

Nori stared at him incredulously. “You’re serious?”

 

* * *

 

A surprised Dori returned to a kitchen that was even cleaner than he’d left it, as well as two exhausted brothers sprawled on the couch with plates in their laps.

“You cleaned the kitchen? And what are those?” Dori asked, dubiously eyeing the... _things_...that Nori and Ori were eating.

“Nori helped me make potato cakes,” Ori piped up proudly.

“They’re flat,” Dori scoffed, picking one up and examining it with distaste.

Nori rolled his eyes. “They’re potato _chips_ , Dori. Get a brain.”

“They’re really good chips! Try one!” Ori cried eagerly.

With a small sigh Dori stuck the chip in his mouth and bit down. He chewed slowly, with a peculiar expression on his face. Ori waited anxiously as Dori swallowed. There was a moment of silence, then Dori leaned forward and snatched another one from Nori’s plate.

From then onward there were many afternoons when Ori could be heard shouting, “The chips are done! Where’s the bucket?! Nori! The bucket!” And some years later, when the three departed on the Quest for Erabor, even then if one opened Ori’s pack they would see some greatly salted and rather crispy chips; Nori and Ori’s special recipe.


End file.
